An Ill Concieved Plan
by Dude13
Summary: There are your good ideas, your bad ideas, and then the ideas borne out of panicked desperation which should never see the light of day, as some of the Foster's residents find out the hard way. [Oneshot]


Yeah, not too sure where this idea came from. Enjoy, nonetheless!

Please review, all feedback is appreciated!

* * *

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…" 

At the sound of the frantic, repetitive murmuring, a puzzled Wilt quickly turned off the TV and plodded cautiously into the foyer.

"Frankie?" he called out gently, ducking through the doorway was her entered. "Frankie, what's wro-"

As soon as he took just one glance at the scene before him, words could only fail to describe the intense shock that the lanky imaginary friend felt, as he stared slack-jawed at the ludicrous spectacle.

Fortunately however, words could at least describe the cause of his temporarily stunned demeanor, and with a decent laconic simplicity to boot. That is, the fact that a redheaded young woman was busily struggling to drag a clearly unconscious young man through the front door.

"_FRANKIE_?" Wilt gasped, finally finding his voice.

"EEEEK!" the young woman shrieked, wide-eyed in horror as she whirled about to find herself completely caught in the act.

"I…I-I…I just…" she immediately began to stammer frantically, quickly scooting away from the young gentleman that lay sprawled upon the foyer floor.

"Just what? Just _what_?" Wilt shouted frantically, waving his arm wildly in the air. "Frankie, what on earth are you doing? Why is there a-_Oh no_!"

The young woman cringed miserably as she spotted the recognition dawn upon the crimson imaginary friend's face. Jaw hanging limply, Wily gazed blankly at the man upon the floor, back to Frankie, then back to the floor.

"Is that….oh no, please don't tell me that it's…" Wilt stammered, jabbing wildly at the unconscious heap.

"Maybe…" Frankie replied dumbly, trying to avert her gaze.

"Is that _John_?" Wilt bellowed incredulously. "Oh jeez, it is! It _is_! What is he-"

"Please, please I can explain!" Frankie yelped. "I-"

"I thought it was _over_ between you two!" the imaginary friend only continued. "You only had like, one date! I thought you specifically told me you weren't gonna see him anymore!"

"I…I did…" the caretaker whispered softly in affirmation.

"_So why is he lying out cold inside the house_?" Wilt practically screamed, feet and arm akimbo in his hysteria.

"No, no it's not what you think!" the frantic redhead squealed in protest. "I mean, see I was planning to tell him over when he showed up at the house, right? I wanted to do it face to face, y'know because I thought it would be better, but then he showed up and I wasn't-" she babbled furiously like a flowing brook. Wilt groaned and shook his head in stunned disbelief.

"Wait, so you broke up with him, and he actually passed out? What guy honestly loses consciousness when a girl tells him that-"

For the second time in so few minutes, Wilt found himself at a complete loss for words as soon as he realized that Frankie was keeping her arms draped protectively over her stomach.

…And doing an absolutely horrible job of concealing the gigantic bulge that protruded from beneath her sweater.

"Frankie…" Wilt whispered, pointing at the anomaly. The girl whimpered as she tightened her hold upon the lump in her belly, instinctively backing away a little bit in her panic.

"Don't judge me…" she pleaded piteously, trying to flash what could pass as a pair of puppy dog eyes.

"You…y-you…you actually…" the dumbfounded Wilt only continued, stammering uncontrollably in his horror.

"No, honestly, it's not what you think at all!" Frankie cried miserably in her defense. "Don't say it, don't say it! John and I didn't get _anywhere_, I swear! Honest to God, I barely let him hold my hand, just _please_ don't say that-"

"Frankie, for the love of God!" Wilt bellowed. "_Let Mac out of there, right now_!"

Dumbly the redhead undid the zipper of her emerald jacket, and almost immediately the eight-year-old concealed within tumbled out, hitting the floor with an audible _thump_.

"M-Mac?" Frankie whispered softly, squatting down a bit. "Pal? Y-you gonna be okay?"

For what seemed like the longest time, all the wide-eyed child could do was remain sprawled upon the tiles, staring unblinkingly at the apologetic redhead, and almost paralyzed with shock.

"Mac?" Frankie murmured one more time, giving him a gentle shake.

"_WHY_?" Mac suddenly screeched, beating his little fists furiously.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh I'm so sorry!" Frankie whimpered, hastily scooping him up into her arms and into a tight hug. "I didn't mean to, pal, honest!"

"If you didn't mean to, how'd I end up there in the first place?" Mac wailed in confusion, throwing his arms around her neck to return the squeeze. Frankie sighed heavily as she stroked the frazzled child's hair comfortingly.

"I'm sorry, Mac, I'm so sorry!"

"No, Frankie!" Wilt brutally interrupted her. "I'm sorry, but sorry just isn't going to cut it!"

"Please, just hold on a sec!" Frankie begged. "I can fix this, just gimme a few moments! It's gonna be okay, I promise!"

"Your ex-boyfriend is still lying out cold on the floor!" Wilt protested furiously, jabbing at the senseless young man. "I'm sorry Frankie, but this is just _not_ okay! This is really, _really_ not okay! This is as far from okay as it can ever get! This-"

"I'm sorry!" Frankie wailed miserably. "I couldn't help it! I just couldn't help it!"

"You couldn't help _this_?" Wilt cried skeptically.

"I panicked, okay?" Frankie confessed. "I just flat-out panicked! I was waiting out on the porch, his car pulled up in the driveway, and…a-and…"

"Oh jeez…" Wilt grumbled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"…and I just lost it! He was getting out of the car, I completely forgot _everything_ I wanted to say…a-and Mac was right there!" the redhead continued to argue her case. "That was all I can think of! I just grabbed the little guy, shoved him up there-"

"Yeah, thanks a lot for the warning!" the eight-year-old whined sarcastically.

"-and when John came to the front door, I told him I was-"

"I _know_ what you said, you _don't_ need to tell me!" Wilt interjected. "Seriously, Frankie, how could you?"

"I told you, I was nervous!" Frankie cried unhappily, stomping her foot.

"Well whatever happened, we need to think of something, _fast_!" The lanky imaginary friend countered, looking a bit frantic. "I don't know how much time we have, but pretty soon, John's gonna wake up, it _won't_ take him long to realize that can't possibly be his kid you're carrying, and _then_ he's gonna ask-"

"What the hell?" the groggy inquiry suddenly was moaned out, cutting off the imaginary friend in mid-tirade. Wilt shook his head furiously, in no mood for random interruptions.

"No, no, he's not gonna say _that_! I'm telling you, the next thing that he'll ask us who's…the…"

Frankie and Wilt both went dead silent as they turned their eyes upon the stirring bundle on the floor.

"Oh, God…" the young man grumbled as he finally came to, struggling to open his eyes and get into a sitting position.

"Hey, wait, Frankie, what are you-_AUGH_!"

However, before Mac could see any further, the child suddenly found his vision roughly obscured by a sea of emerald green.

"Oh no, don't! Please, don't! Not again!" Wilt implored, but by then the panicking young woman was already zipping her jacket shut as she sported an atrociously noticeable bulge in her gut.

"Shh! Mac, you gotta be quiet! Just for a little bit, okay?" Frankie tried to soothingly hush the madly thrashing lump under her sweater. "Please, you gotta-"

"_Mac_?" The gentleman known as "John" cried out in befuddlement, eyes finally snapping open at the sound of the mass commotion going on around him. Shooting up into a clumsy sitting position, the young man look about dazedly for a few seconds before laying eyes on the ridiculous-looking young woman standing nervously not too far off.

"John, I-" she tried speak up in her defense.

"Mac?" he only repeated again. "Oh my God, you mean you're already _named_ it?"

"Uh…" Frankie only murmured, at a total loss for words at this point.

"Oh my God, no wonder!" he only continued, jabbing a finger at her bulge. "Just look at that thing kick!"

"Yeah, but…but….well, I…." The girl tried once more, struggling in vain to think of something logical to say in her defense and trying to calm the wriggling little one trapped under her garment, and failing miserably at both.

"Frankie…" John finally asked softly, letting his hands go limp at his sides while he gawked at her, bug-eyed in utter disbelief. "Who's is it?"

"I…I-I…I….I-I-I…"

Stuttering uncontrollably like mad, sweat pouring from her brow, Frankie stared into the eyes of her former boyfriend for a few moments, looked about frantically…

….and laid eyes upon a very familiar and extremely confused looking rabbit just emerging from his office nearby.

"For goodness sake, everyone!" Mr. Herriman roared sternly as he entered the chaos. "What on earth is going on in-"

"_Him_!" Frankie shrieked without even thinking, arm shooting up to jab furiously at her employer. "He's the father!"

"_Me_?" the elderly rabbit cried, absolutely befuddled as a hysterical-looking caretaker made a rapid beeline for him. "Good gracious, young lady, _what_ are you talking about? I-"

An audible gasp went up from all present, though of course none of them were as shocked as Mr. Herriman as soon as he felt a pair lips roughly forced themselves against him, followed by the frantic cry of,

"Yes! Yes, it's true!" Frankie screamed at the top of her lungs, removing her lips with an audible wet smack as threw her arms tightly around the stunned imaginary rabbit. "I can't hide it anymore! The child is his! You know why? It's because we're in _love_! Do you hear me? _Mr. Herriman and I are in love_!"

* * *

"…so does this mean Mac has to call you "mom" from now on?" 

"I'm _not_ in the mood right now, okay?"

"You said though that you took him and you-"

"Stop it!"

"Hey, all I'm saying is-"

"Hey, what'd I just say? Quit it!"

"But it's just that-"

"Bloo, knock it off!" Frankie barked savagely at the prying imaginary friend. However, hardly fazed by the ferocity of her pleas, the little blob just gawked blankly at her for a few seconds, right before asking,

"So….what _does_ a half-rabbit, half-human baby look like, anyway?" he inquired innocently.

Deciding that it was absolutely hopeless to argue any further, Frankie just let her head collapse back into her pillows, wanting to do little else but remain sprawled atop her bed and to stew in her mortified embarrassment.

"Can you just leave it alone for a little bit? I _know_ what happened, I _completely_ panicked, and I know that I totally blew it tonight, okay?" she lamented sadly. "Please, the rabbit fur I'm gonna be spiting out for a week is _more_ than I want to remember what happened tonight."

With this, the trio lapsed into quiet, each one struggling furiously to comprehend the utterly bizarre events of the past few hours.

"A-are you gonna be okay, Frankie?" Mac finally managed to break the silence, turning his head a little from where he rested against he stomach to gaze imploringly at the solemn redhead. Realizing the bitter irony of the eight-year-old's question, the caretaker just elicited a drawn-out groan as she began to run her fingers gently through Mac's hair.

"Pal, we'll be lucky if I didn't scar you for life or anything." She lamented sadly, seeing little use to sugarcoat the issue at hand.

"I-It's okay…" the child muttered feebly in an attempt to reassure her.

"Oh, so you were just having the time of your life there shoved up my jacket?" Frankie murmured, giving him an affectionate pat.

"I-" Mac struggled to salvage a shred of his attempt to console. "Well…it wasn't _that_ bad…"

Frankie lifted her head momentarily to glare incredulously at the child.

"Liar." She accused flatly before letting her head neck go limp, though not without ruffling the eight-year-old's hair reassuringly once more.

Again, the trio lapsed into another painfully extensive awkward silence before one of them came to an abrupt realization.

"Hey…" Bloo objected meekly. "I was just thinking…shouldn't we be more worried about Mr. Herriman? I mean, c'mon, Frankie _did_ just-"

"I told you, we _know_ what happened." Frankie growled, obviously in no mood to hear the details of her misadventure again.

"I know, I know! But still…" the little creature persisted, frowning at the haggard young woman. She took just one glance at the curious azure blob and emitted a low whimper, covering her face with her hands.

"Hey, hey!" Bloo protested. "C'mon, what'd I say? What'd I say? All I asked was-"

"Trust me, you do _not_ want to know how the rabbit's dealing with this." Frankie answered bluntly, cutting him off in mid-complaint. Bloo paused and eyed the girl a little warily.

"Huh?" he grunted in dumb confusion. "What do you mean by _that_?"

Before the minor question-and-answer session could continue any further, the little group suddenly went quiet as soon as they heard the all too familiar sounds of someone making their way through the halls with a very dignified hop.

"Miss Frances! Oh Miss Frances!" the chipper inquiry rang out in a goofy, singsong style. Almost immediately Frankie let loose with a yelp of dismay, snatching one of her pillows and tossing it neatly over her face.

"Please, no…" she whined piteously.

"Oh, _there_ you are!" Came the triumphed announcement as a familiar furry face poked into the room. Sensing her employer's presence, the caretaker began to fidget anxiously about her bed, desperately struggling to keep her face hidden from view.

"Mr. H, don't…." she struggled to object in muffled protest. Mac and Bloo, meanwhile, had nothing to say on the subject of this utterly bizarre confrontation; the unusually large grin adorning Mr. Herriman's silvery-gray features had stunned the pair into mute shock. Never before in their lives had they seen the normally rigid and austere figure looking so upbeat, and a little playful actually, which was a huge first for them.

"Oh come now, dearest!" Mr. Herriman chuckled deviously as he entered. "Can't an honest fellow check on his misses after she's had a bit of a nasty shock? I just want to make sure you and our "child" are well, after all." He openly teased.

Although it was hidden from view, Frankie no doubt was blushing like mad underneath her pillow.

"Please, stop it!" she implored miserably, curling up into an undignified fetal position. "Cut it out! This isn't funny!"

Mr. Herriman was now shaking wildly with mirth at this point, enjoying the cruel joke for all it was worth.

"Now, now, there's absolutely nothing wrong with a husband being too concerned for his wife, if there?" he vexed her mercilessly. "I simply want the best for you and our baby, nothing more, so why can't I-"

"_AUGH_!" Frankie suddenly moaned loudly in aggravation, tossing her pillow aside to glare imploringly at her tormentor. Rather than be discouraged at all by her blatantly irked reaction, the rabbit's glee was only increased further by the fact that her burning red face practically matched her crimson hair. Upon seeing the joy in his eyes, Frankie ceased her bristling with a heavy sigh.

"You're _never_ gonna let me live this down, aren't you?" she whined dejectedly, cutting a most ridiculously pathetic sight. Still smiling fiendishly, Mr. Herriman hopped to her bedside and gently patted the young woman's back in reassurance.

"I am a man of my word, young lady." He laughed. "And unfortunately for you, I must admit that you'd be terribly mistaken if you think I'm even close to finished with _you_."

"You're not gonna stop?" Frankie whimpered dejectedly, burying her face in her hands with an exhausted moan. Much to her chagrin, the unusually good-humored creature leaned in to give her a playful whiskery nuzzle, forcing the surprised girl to elicit a high-pitched yelp of shock.

"Oh, I'll put an end to it at some point, I suppose." He chuckled heartily, earning him a nasty glare from the shaken redhead. "But only when I stop having the most fun I've had in years."

"That means _never_, right?" Frankie moaned pessimistically.

"My point exactly, Miss Frances."

**The End**

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A bit over the top I think, to say the very least...


End file.
